


One Percent

by Whedonist



Category: Nikki & Nora
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonist/pseuds/Whedonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hot summer night and a dead body, things are pretty normal for our girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Scum

**Title:** One Percent 1/6  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. These ladies and some of the other characters belong to Nancylee Myatt and Co.  
 **Fandom:** Nikki  & Nora  
 **Pairing:** Nikki/Nora  
 **Rating:** PG13—R  
 **Summary:** A hot summer night and a dead body, things are pretty normal for our girls.  
 **Spoiler or Other Information:** This takes place in the Why Don’t You  & I A.U. but no spoilers really.

One Percent

 

_The night is raucous; alive with the sound of music spilling out of the bars that line St. Peter Street. It is warm and sticky, but a breeze cuts through the grid of streets that make up the Quarter. It makes the night tolerable, even with the mass of moving bodies. Laughter up ahead pulls the young man’s attention away from the phone in his hand. He quickly surveys what’s happening around him. A group of girls dressed in short skirts, impossibly high heels, and variations on halter tops lean into each other as they stop at the corner of the street._

The phone is slipped into his back, right pocket before he runs his hands through his stringy, strip of brown hair on the top of his head. Sweat drips from his temples and the back of his neck, rolling down his face and back. The sweat makes the heat and grim acute, causing him to feel that much more soiled than he was a few seconds ago. Some of the sweat’s already soaked into the collar of his thin, cotton button up, staining the collar a deeper blue.

The footsteps echo around him. People pass him, glancing off his shoulders in a way that becomes numbing. It’s one of the many hazards of living in any city and also of being down in the Quarter on a Saturday night. Squaring his shoulders as he nears the intersection, anxious to get to MacCailin’s on the next block.

Stopping with the others moving his way, he shifts his weight from left to right waiting on the flow of traffic to change in their favor. A small mass of people surround him, looking to move on, just like him, eager to get to the next stop tonight. The cars going against them barely come to a stop as he readies himself to move forward.

The surge of bodies around him causes his foot to rise as he takes his first step. The sting in his back barely registers as his foot plants itself on the warm concrete. He stops, getting slightly jostled as bodies move around him, anchored to the spot as another sting, rips along his right side. Another one goes deeper; instead of the grunt or whimper of pain, bitter, coppery warmth fills his mouth. An unnatural chills sweeps over him, instantly cooling the slick sweat he was used to. He coughs and dark spittle flies from his lips. It spatters itself on the back of a woman in a white tank top. The red dots spread a little as the fabric soaks them up.

As he drops to his knees, the screams are distant, faint. The pain begins to ebb and he grows warm. Falling to his side, the concrete’s a bit damp. A few puddles reflect back the colorful lighting. His lips press together and his eyes flutter closed. His breathing brings in the scent of the street, dirty and soiled, before it slows and stops.

 

* * *

 

I—The Scum

The lamp against the far wall of the small, dingy hotel room provided the only light when Nikki let the right side of the thick, polyester curtain fall shut. The faded, robin egg blue material thumped against the window sill and let loose a bouquet of stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her partner for the night settle on a similarly colored bedspread. The bed’s springs protested under the weight and it was no mystery that it had seen far better days.

“They’re on their way up,” she informed the man she’d first been partnered with years ago. “Ready?” she asked as she pulled her gun free of its holster to check before they were needed in the adjoining room. She flicked the safety off and holstered the gun as Ron stood and nodded.

“Still having a hard time with why you let your partner out there?” Ron snapped his gum and finally asked what had been on his mind all night. He knew Nikki had done stings like this before. He’d been with her on the first two jobs. Nora, his old partner’s new one, hadn’t, at least as far as he was able to put together. Of course, it wasn’t that long ago that he and Nikki reconnected. Nikki’d changed. He had to.

She gave him no response as her hand rested on her gun. She neared the door to the adjoining room and looked back at him, a thin manicured eyebrow rose as he came up behind her. She was first in this round. They’d taken turns tonight, much to his annoyance. He hated sending in anyone smaller first.

“Don’t,” Nikki hissed.

“I wasn’t…” Ron tried to defend himself.

“Bullshit,” Nikki bit off. “It’s my partner in the other room. Act right, Baird.”

His lips pursed, but took the order for what it was and squared his shoulders, waiting with her for the signal. He and Nikki pressed the ear buds deeper, waiting. No one wanted risk a wire in the field, so they’d bugged the room they were using for the stings.

It took longer than expected to for the door to open and Nora’s voice sounded in their ear. He watched Nikki’s shoulders drop slightly, before rising again as she pulled her gun free again and put her hand the door knob.

He listened as Nora baited the man in the room with her. It didn’t take long for him to offer payment to the detective next door. It took the blink of an eye for Nikki to push open the door and raise her gun with him close on her heels.

They both stopped short to watch as Nora pressed the heel of her four-inch heels into the john’s throat to silence his protests. Ron holstered his gun and moved around Nikki to flip the guy on his back and cuff him. “Mike Foxtrot Hotel, we are clear in two-twenty-eight,” Ron barked into the mic at his wrist and then read the collar his Miranda rights.

“Good?” Nikki asked her partner who was straightening out the purple, mesh miniskirt. Nikki gave the outfit her partner had on a hundredth look that night, from the tips of the peep toe, glittery, starred heels, over the thigh-highs with exposed garters, miniskirt, and sequined, gold tube top. The hair and make-up were different things all together, the mussed hair and heavy eye shadow. Nikki shook her head and tried to hide the smile at her partner from everyone in the room.

Nora nodded and asked, “That makes three. We’re done, right?”

Two officers in grungy jeans and dingy, faded t-shirts walked through the room’s main door before Nora had a chance to respond. Ron, not missing a beat, handed off their collar and responded to the question, “We are. Good work tonight, ladies.”

As the other three left, Ron shut the door and turned back to the duo. “Go get changed while we strip the room,” he directed and moved to the antennae on top of the T.V. where the lone bug was hidden.

Nora didn’t need to be told twice. She headed for the bathroom and Nikki watched her go.

Ron pulled the bug from the back of the antennae and grumped, “Beaumont, put your goddamn tongue away and you didn’t answer my question.”

Shaking her head, Nikki looked towards Ron. “I thought seeing her would answer it for me.”

The brunette’s eyebrows wiggled briefly before Nora’s protest could be heard behind the thin bathroom door, “I heard that, Nikki!”

Ron snickered, “Dumbass.”

 

* * *

 

“He pissed on my clothes!” Nora shouted as she slammed the driver’s door of her car. The action garnered the look of several uniforms and a tech or two as they approached the crime scene.

Nikki hid her smile with the back of her left hand while using her right to flash her badge at the uniform holding up the crime scene tape.

“I liked that shirt and those jeans…” Nora continued to whine behind her. Nikki did feel bad. Those jeans did hug her lover in all the right spots, but when Nikki kindly offered to bag them and have them dry cleaned, Nora’s indignant rage grew tenfold. Nikki promptly shut her mouth and let her partner rage.

The upside to it all was that on their way home, Nora still looking like she was ready to work a corner, a call had come in that sent them out to the Quarter.

“Hey, Delaney, how much?” David Keenan from C.S.U. barked and took another picture of their approach.

“Go back to photographing the dead, David,” Nikki warned. “She’s liable to shoot you in front of anyone and I don’t want to have to deal with the paperwork if it happens.”

“Fuck off,” Nora grumbled and brushed against him, adding a little more force with her shoulder when she connected. Nikki laughed as he stumbled and nearly landed on his butt.

There was a round of laughter from the crew that surrounded them, but Charlie’s wide eyed, open mouthed gape had Nikki in stitches. Her fit of laughter got her a smack to the shoulder and a low growl, “Both of you, shut the hell up.”

“Didn’t say a word,” Charlie mumbled and went back to scribbling on his clipboard.

“Who’s the unlucky man ruining a night of debauchery for the tourists?” Nikki squatted down and looked over the body. The man was lying on his stomach, arms jutted out, and raised above his head. The blue shirt he had on was stained a dark crimson.

“No I.D.” Charlie stated. “I’ll run prints when I get back. For right now, he’s Mr. Doe.”

“Took a shot in each lung and one in the kidney,” Nora surmised from her standing position next to Nikki.

“Come on down and have a closer look,” the brunette detective suggested right before blocking the half-hearted kick from the blonde. “You wound me, sug.”

“Stuff it, Beaumont,” Nora growled again.

“Now, ladies, no need to reduce yourselves to a wrestling match on my account. Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can drum up a large enough audience and charge a decent admissions price,” Charlie suggested, wiggling his eyebrows as they both glared. “But, you’d be right, Nora. Stabbed in each lung and the kidney.”

“Are you going straight back to work on him?” Nikki asked, standing up and wincing as her knees popped on her way up.

“Nope. Ice.” Charlie scratched at his forehead while he answered. “As you can see,” he indicated to the stripped pajama bottoms and thin grey t-shirt he had on, “I wasn’t really working when the call came in.”

“The shoes are a nice touch,” Nora snickered at the mismatched pair he wore. “Have to admit the one dress shoe and the one sneaker make it sort of classy.”

“Those in glass houses, Nora, should not throw those stones,” Charlie warned as he waved an arm at her attire. “What were you two getting up to?”

“Sting operation with my old partner,” Nikki explained. “Nora wanted to see how it felt working the other side of the law.”

“Everything you hoped it’d be?” Charlie grinned.

“You have no idea, Ophoven, no idea.” Nora replied and clapped him on the shoulder. “We should go talk to the first responding team and start taking in interviews.”

Nikki nodded and scanned the crowd. “Seems like our night just got a bit longer.”


	2. City Slum

“Nora,” Nikki grumbled against warm skin as she prodded her lover’s bare hip. “Gettup. Door.” Her eye cracked open as the weight on the bed shifted and Nora fumbled at her lover’s request. She buried her head into the freshly vacated pillow in an attempt to block out the light that seeped around the heavy, light green curtains. Nikki would have gotten up to answer the door, but they ended up back at Nora’s. It only served the blonde right. 

Nora rubbed at her eyes; her hand slid down her face and pinched her chin, trying to brush away the gauzy web of sleep. She stood and reached for a shirt sitting next to the dirty clothes hamper and a pair of jeans puddled next to it. She casted a quick glance back at the bed; Nikki had already rolled over to expose her bare back to the room and snuggled into the warm spot she’d just left. Sighing, Nora ran her hand through her hair and padded out to the living room. 

“Coming,” she called out to whoever was breaking up the sorely needed sleep she’d been trying to catch up on. After Ron and the murder, they had managed a shower, left a message for Dan, and then crawled into bed shortly before five a.m. As she passed by the kitchen, Nora glanced at the clock on the microwave, it was barely eight. 

“Nora,” Charlie called out from the hallway behind the door. 

“Yeah,” Nora grunted and flipped the lock on the dead bolt. She swung the door open and propped herself in its frame. “This better be good,” she mumbled through a yawn, covering her mouth to prevent blasting Charlie with morning breath. 

“I thought you’d be at your desk this morning.” Charlie smiled a bit sheepish. “I swung by, Dan said you’d be home.” 

“Where’s the fire?” Nora asked, relenting and finally letting him passed the threshold and into the kitchen. 

Charlie shuffled towards the kitchen and plopped down at the small table resting against the right wall. Nora went immediately to the coffee maker and pulled out the requisite paper filter and canister of grinds. She flipped the lid and plopped the filter in place. “What’s up?” she asked over her shoulder as she measured out the coffee. 

“Like I said,” Charlie finally spoke, “I thought you’d have been at work by now. I got an I.D. on your vic from this morning.” 

She turned towards him just in time to see a brown file folder plop on to the table, the M.E.’s office seal printed in the center. The file was thicker than she expected. Usually, I.D. reports came back thin with the two or three top sheets identifying the vic. The rest was medical speak that Nora never cared much to learn. The one Charlie plopped down held enough to be about a quarter inch thick. 

She let her curiosity simmer in deference to getting some type of caffeine in her system. She turned back to the maker and grabbed the carafe, started the cold tap and filled it to appropriate levels. Pouring the water into the reservoir, she closed the lid, replaced the carafe, and hit the start button before sitting down in the chair across from her friend. 

He nudged the folder toward her and she flipped it open. The first thing she saw was a mug shot of their vic. She glanced at the basics: twenty-two years old, Caucasian male, five-foot-ten, one-hundred-eighty-three pounds, medium length brown hair and brown eyes. Below the basics were what held the items of interest. 

Block lettering told her that he was part of a small time gang out of the Seventh Ward, the Bokoo Boys. She racked her brain trying to recall more than the blurb that she’d read about them in a briefing ages ago. Bokoo was a small group of tight-knit, neighborhood boys, some older now, that stuck to theft, assault, and armed robbery. Really, calling them organized enough to be a gang was stretching the legal definition. Everything she recalled never spoke to murder or even pissing off any rival groups. Especially, enough for anybody they could consider a rival wanting to murder one of them.

She flipped the first page and inhaled the aroma of brewing coffee, feeling slightly more alert at the scent. The second page held the cause of death, asphyxiation, not really a surprise as the report indicated he drowned in his own blood. There was a list of one residence and the next of kin was listed at the same address. Charlie had done a fair bit of work for them. Nora flipped to the next page and realized that she was looking at the vic’s, Michael DeSalvo, R.A.P. Sheet. 

She closed the folder and tossed it on to the table. “Coffee?” she asked and stood. 

“I was gonna go,” Charlie stood to leave as he answered, “I just wanted to get that to you, but you should go back to sleep a bi…” his words trailed off as Nikki shuffled into view. He looked the brunette over with her closed eyes, messy hair, white tank top, and blue panties. His cheeks reddened as he went to stare at her bare feet and purple painted toe nails. 

“Baby,” Nikki shuffled up to Nora, not noticing Charlie, “No coffee. Bed.” The cup in Nora’s hand hit the counter top as she spun around and lost her voice. 

The noise did enough to make Nikki open her eyes as Charlie found the sense to make himself known and cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he tried, “I…” 

Looking back over her shoulder, Nikki’s mouth dropped open as she registered the site of their M.E. “Oh, shit.”

* * *

The El Camino idled at the curb of Fifteen-Eighty-One North Dorgenois Street as Nikki played with the ring on her right thumb. It spun around the appendage as Nora's grip tightened along the steering wheel. Nikki suppressed her first inclination, saying something to get her in trouble, her second, saying something to make Nora’s mood worse, and her third, a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes. She opted instead to keep quiet. She opted instead to unbuckle her seat belt and make her way outside to the curb. Sometimes, being with Nora, Nikki’d learned it was better to just keep her mouth shut and let her stay in her piss poor mood.

From her new position, she watched Nora stare ahead and couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her lover's very busy, very stubborn head. Charlie seemed to take the revelation of their relationship well. He had even extended an invite to dinner over the weekend, which Nikki promptly accepted as Nora stormed from the kitchen. The only real problem was Nora just hadn't said a word to her since then. 

The engine shut down and Nora climbed from the vehicle. Nikki squared her shoulders and Nora met her on the sidewalk. It was time to quiet and lock away the personal aspects of their life. A young man had been murdered last night and as Nora finally spoke, she at least acknowledged that, "We're here for Bonnie or Curtis DeSalvo. This has been the vic's address since he was twelve." 

"We have anything else on the parents?" Nikki asked to Nora's back as she started up the driveway. She looked past her partner's shoulder and saw the tail end of a truck sticking out behind the back of the house. 

"Nope," Nora answered as she approached the truck and continued, "this, though, this is a 'Sixty-nine Chevy C10." The admiration in Nora's voice was clear, not near enough to be considered a slight against her precious June Lee, but Nora did have a thing for cars older than her. Nikki watched on amused as her partner slid her right hand along the shiny, black paint of the bed. 

"Hey!" a deep voice shouted right before the springs on the rusty back porch door protested. Nora's hand fell from the truck as a tall, broad shouldered African-American stepped outside. With the hood of the truck open and the black grease marring the otherwise pristine A-shirt stretched across the man's muscular frame, Nikki figured touching the truck was probably a bad idea.

"Sorry," Nora apologized and took the lead in the introductions, "I'm Det. Nora Delaney and this is my partner, Det. Nikki Beaumont. We're looking for Mr. or Mrs. DeSalvo." 

"DeSalvo...?" The man's face soured at the name and slowly, it relaxed, "Y'all lookin' for Tard?" 

"Tard?" Nikki piped up needing something more. 

"Tard, Mike..." the man rolled his eyes and clomped down the steps. ”That's Mike's last name, DeSalvo. We all just call him 'Tard' on account of him being a few eggs short of a dozen. What the hell'd he get into now?" 

Nikki recovered a little bit ahead of Nora and said, "We have this address listed as Mr. DeSalvo's home address since the age of twelve." 

"You would. He's been living here since he was ten," the man snapped. "You two want to tell me what the fuck's going on?" The muscles along his jaw bunched and a vein in his neck popped and throbbed. 

The detectives exchanged a look before answering the man's question, "Mr...?" 

"None of your fucking business 'till you answer my question," he snapped and replanted his feet. 

The message clear, Nora rubbed the back of her neck, delivering this type of news was one of the worst parts of the job. Over time, the Band-Aid method was the best. "Michael was stabbed last night in the Quarter. I'm afraid he was pronounced dead at the scene."

In testament to the man's brick like build, the news caused only the briefest flash of pain, like a bullet ricocheting off stone, he flinched, but stayed quiet for a moment before evenly asking, "You catch the killer?" 

The two women shook their heads. "Do you know why he was down in the quarter last night?" Nikki asked. 

The man shook his head. "Nope. Know shit about shit." 

Another look was exchanged between the women. This time Nikki's back straightened using the bit of height she had over Nora and what the heeled boots she had on to her advantage. "I understand this is a lot to take in, but any information you have could be useful to our investigation. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated." 

"And I ain't got nothin' to say. You ain't gonna find shit around here. Tard went and did some stupid shit and got his-self popped. Ain't the first person to do it. Won't be the last." The man began to walk towards the open hood of the car, declaring the impromptu meeting over. 

"We'd like to see his room," Nora tried. 

"Fuck off and come back with a warrant if you want in my house," the man muttered from under the hood.

Knowing it was definitely time to throw in the towel for now, Nora turned first and started down the drive way. Nikki stood a moment more, tempted to try one more time, but a softly called, "Nikki," caused her turn and follow Nora back to the car. 

They slipped into June Lee together. Nora looked at her, cranking the engine over and asking, "Now where?" 

Nikki shrugged. "We'll start with the usual paper trails. See if we can see anything there." 

Nora tilted her head and asked, "It bug you as much as it bugs me that nothing on DeSalvo was taken?" 

Nikki's fingers drummed along her thigh, choosing her words carefully before giving the idea churning in her head voice. "I think that if it was anything else than a calculated hit, it would have been messier. That was a prison style hit. Swift, precise, and as clean as it can be considering. DeSalvo pissed the wrong someone off." 

"So, back to the precinct then? We should have an A.D.A. start on a warrant for a search," Nora offered. 

Nikki bit her lip and wondered, "You think there's going to be anything in that place when we get back here with a warrant?"


	3. Generation Terrorist

**Before You Read Below, Read This:** A few things to get out of the way way before you read the new chapter, assuming you make it that far or are even interested given the length of time between this and the last chapter. Also this is long, so I'm going to start with the most important thing first. 

[Crowd funding for Season 2](https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/nikki-nora-season-2) of Nikki & Nora or The N&N Files has been going on. I've been silent because life, and while I'm a jerk, I'm not so much of a jerk that I'm comfortable with sitting back and watching the show not make it's goal. Better late than never and all that jazz. So, this is me being annoying and poking bears with sticks. Shake down the couch, again. Shake down the dirty laundry, again. Maybe if you have a spare change jar, take it for a walk and cash it in. Maybe not eat out for a few days and throw that money towards their goal. Even if it's a few dollars. It's appreciated, by them and the fans, yinz all if you're reading this. I know they're currently behind pace of what they want to hit so for those of you that do social media, the twitter, the tumblr, the facebook...post, tweet, or whatever they call it now and spread the word. The internets are vast and mighty (also scary, but that's a rant for another time) and make some noise about it. Please? Pretty please? I grovel if necessary, but when I do it just makes all involved uncomfortable. 

Next most important thing, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I suck. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get this measly chapter up. This story along with a few other's have been languishing on my hard drive for over a year. It's not for a lack of want, but energy and time...also brain power. So I'm sorry. It's not fair to you or to the stories that are languishing. I'm also not promising to be better because the thing of it is, is that my job is hard and I work 80 hours a week so that by the time I come home having enough brain cells to rub together to keep a thought warm is a tall order. I'll try.

I think that's it. This is getting long and there's more below, not me typing at you, but story stuff that's more interesting than what I have to say...but remember, shake down those pesky nooks and crannies for that spare change, cook a meal at home (or 2 or 3) and spread the word. Will grovel as needed.

* * *

Chapter 3—Generation Terrorist

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Nora grumbled as Nikki killed June Lee's engine. 

Her partner cut her a wry grin then looked at the old warehouse. The windows lining the top were painted black allowing no light in or out. The paint job on the building needed redone about ten years ago if the myriad of exposed, multiple layers of the faded green were anything to go by. The only way you could tell that it was being occupied was by the filled small parking lot they bypassed. They opted to park in the loading zone as they stepped from the vehicle; Nora double checking the police placard was visible on the dash.

"Who are we meeting again?" Nora asked as she straightened her holster and pulled her hair from underneath her tan jacket. 

"An old friend," Nikki answered as she tugged on Nora's shirt riding up in the back. "I think we need to get you some new shirts." 

A sour looked passed over Nora's face as she grumped and swatted away fussing hands, "No. My clothes are fine. You're just picky." 

Trying to sooth her touchy partner, Nikki gently hipped checked her as they reached the entrance to the warehouse. "I'm not picky. I just think that shirt, while lovely on you, isn't the best to wear. Although..." Nikki trailed off as she opened the door to the building, "maybe for today, it's fitting." 

Nora stepped inside the building unsure of what to expect. Sure she'd met Darius and he seemed all right. A good guy in her books, but some of the other 'informants' that Nikki had used in their past investigations were less than okay. So being introduced to another one, well, it had Nora nervous. As she scanned the building they'd entered, she was surprised that it wasn't an open floor plan like most of the other warehouses she'd been in. The main entrance of the place ended up being another small room with a door set off to the back. Next to the door was a service counter where a girl, with bright red hair and school bus yellow streaks, and a large smile greeted them. 

"Miss Nikki!" the young woman chirped as Nora felt Nikki slide in behind her. 

"Hey, Alicia!" Nikki greeted the young girl. "How’ve you been?" 

The young girl bobbed her head. “Good. Just kicking around, y’know?” 

“I do,” Nikki purred and pulled Nora up to the counter. She propped her arms on the counter and leaned in to continue the conversation, “You still in school?” 

“Just signed up for the fall quarter,” Alicia confirmed. “And who’s this?” She cut a large grin in Nora’s direction. 

“This is my partner, Nora. We’re just popping in to see if the boss is around,” Nikki answered and straightened up. 

“Should be. I ain’t seen him except this afternoon when we opened. It’s kidna busy, but go on back and come see me if you want to get some time in.” Alicia wiggled her eyebrows at the two as she hit the buzzer to the back door. 

Nora’s eyebrows hiked as music filtered through the opening door. She cast a quick glance to Nikki before following her partner through. She wasn’t ever really sure what to suspect when she went along with Nikki. Seedy joints, occasionally, cemeteries, could be considered a weekly venture, but this…

Nora gaped at the neon she was surrounded by. The warehouse’s floor plan finally became clear as the place was lined with arcade games. The wall on the left held various types of skeeball, the wall to her right and what she could make of the back wall was nothing but pinball machines and the center of the warehouse were rows of various first person shooters, driving games and classic arcade machines. 

She felt a tug on the sleeve of her shirt and let Nikki lead her farther into the building. “If you wanna play when we’re done, I’ll have Alicia hook us up,” the brunette teased lightly, slightly amused by the wonder passing over Nora’s features. 

“I just…” Nora trailed off and shook her head. “Not what I was expecting.” 

Nikki suppressed the urge to dig to focus on the man emerging from the office. She smiled in greeting at the kid. “If you’re still trying to grow that beard out the next time I see you, I’m going to make you shave it off.” 

Nora looked at the man, kid really, as he couldn’t be more than twenty-two, with the short patches of hair along his face. At five-nine-ish and a buck and a half of weight, he reminded her a little of Bobby with the color of his eyes and hair. 

“You say that every time, Miss Nikki, but it’s still here and I’m going to keep trying until I can get a full beard in,” the man smiled before reaching out and pulling Nikki into a one armed hug. “What brings you by and who’s your friend?” 

“You got a minute to chat?” Nikki asked as they shuffled into the back office the man came from. 

“For you,” the guy pinked a little, “always.” 

“Good. This is my partner, Det. Nora Delaney.” Nikki turned to Nora to make the introductions, “Nora, this is Josiah.” 

“Call me Tilt, Miss Nikki has a habit of giving out my real name,” Josiah smiled and stuck out his hand. 

Shaking the offered hand, she said, “I can help you out with that.” She grinned and winked at Nikki. “For the right price, I can give you hers.” 

“Delaney,” Nikki growled. 

Tilt’s face erupted into a full grin as he said, “We’ll talk later, but for now, what can I do for you both?” 

Nikki took a seat on the couch and motioned for Nora to take a spot next to her. “We caught a case a day ago. Michael DeSalvo, goes by ‘Tard,’ and runs with the Boku Boys was stabbed. Any of them come in here?” 

Nora watched the corners of Tilts mouth angle down. “Tard did. A few times, his buddy, Rush, uh…” he trailed off snapping his fingers, “uhm, his name…real name, A.J. I think. He and Tard would come in from time to time. Last time they were around I had to kick them and a couple of jerks from the G.T.’s out. Couldn’t abide by the house rules.” 

“House rules?” Nora questioned as she leaned forward and rested her arms on her knees. 

“Yeah, we’ve got a few around here. No fighting, no territorial bullshit and no deals happen inside here. I run a pretty simple operation. It’s a fucking arcade, y’know?” Tilt explained as he folded his arms across his chest. “Tard was all right. I mean, not a Mensa member by any stretch, but I usually didn’t have any problems.” 

“You know the names of the…G.T.’s?” Nikki followed up. “And who or what is a ‘G.T.’?”

“Generation Terrorist,” Nora supplied. “They’re not rivals, but not friendly with some of the other…factions, running around. What’d they fight about?” 

Tilt gave a shrug of his shoulder. “Not too sure. I was back here working on the payroll when I heard the shouting. Me and Ali tossed ‘em out. I only knew one of the guys from the G.T.’s, goes by Screwdriver, real name’s Chris something…” Tilt turned around and pecked the laptop on the desk. “Chris…Mac. Here.” He righted himself as the printer next to the couch came to life. “There’s a copy of his D.L., but you didn’t get this from me.” 

“Noted,” Nikki said as she plucked the paper from the tray. “Thanks.”

* * *

The steaming cup of coffee slid into Nora’s field of vision as she sat at her desk looking over various reports on the two groups the dead body had put in front of her. The Generation Terrorists, or G.T.’s, were on the same level as the Boku Boys. Small things here and there, flying well enough just under the radar to not attract the attention of the Organized Crime division, but large enough to get their names known. From what she could tell, the numbers for both were small, a core group of six or seven with some lackey’s that they use for the really petty crimes the actual members couldn’t be bothered with. 

“How long are we going to let him simmer?” Nikki asked leaning against the side of her partner’s desk. 

Looking up, Nora blinked and cocked her head in thought. She wasn’t really sure what to expect when they went to try and talk to Chris Mac, but Danny Freeman coming at them with a hot skillet wasn’t one of them. Now, after Nora’s arm still throbbed from where she blocked the attempted blow, she sat back, laced her hands behind her head and thought. The assault gave them a minimum of a twenty-four hour hold on the asshole and if they decided to press charges after that, well, he’d have to see a judge to get released. 

“Give him a bit more time,” she finally said, rubbing her right eye to clear the itchy burning her exhaustion was causing. Her left eye remained opened as she watched her partner raise an eyebrow her. “What?” 

Nikki’s mouth screwed to the side before she stood and started collecting her things. “Let’s go.” 

“Eh?” Nora’s brain tried to catch up to whatever her partner was doing, but she seemed to be stuck in first gear. 

“You’re exhausted. I’m pissed. We aren’t going to get anything out of that asshole tonight,” the brunette replied in a clipped tone. “Get it together while I tag a uni to escort our friend back to holding for the night.” She didn’t bother waiting for Nora to comply, just assuming she would as she stalked over to Wallin’s and Lindsey’s desk. 

“Hi, gentleman,” Nikki started and got their attention. Two buzz cut brunette heads whipped up at the sound of her voice. “We have a suspect in Room Three. Can you see he gets back to holding before you leave?” 

“Uh, we don’t get done for another four hours, Det. Beaumont,” Lindsey stammered. 

Nikki shrugged. “Let him simmer a bit. I cranked up the heat before we left him, so I’m sorry if he smells.” Much like her approach with Nora, she didn’t wait for them to confirm their compliance and instead spun on her heel and left them to the rest of their shift. Nora was waiting by their desks holding out her purse. 

Nikki nodded in acceptance and led them out into the tepid night. She didn’t allow for much conversation and insisted on driving her girlfriend home. Pulling up to the curb, she let June Lee’s engine idle and waited on Nora to head on up. 

Stalling, the blonde looked at her partner, “You coming?”

Nikki shook her head. “June Lee and I are gonna go for a drive and let you get some sleep. We’ll be back tomorrow bright and early to pick you up.” She watched Nora open her mouth, the thoughts forming and then dying on her lips as Nikki realized Nora thought better than to question her tonight. Thankful for that small bit of grace from her partner, Nikki amended, “Go on. I love you and we’ll see you in the morning.” She leaned over and pecked the corner of Nora’s mouth before opening the passenger door and giving the blonde a gentle shove. 

Nikki watched as Nora scurried up to her apartment and didn’t pull away until she saw the living room light flicker twice to let her know Nora was in and she was safe. She pulled out of the spot she’d double parked in, rolling up to the stop sign at the end of Nora’s block. It was there that she let her head fall forward and bounce against the leather wrapped steering wheel. 

She took in a few breaths before deciding on where to go. Signaling left she, looked around before making the turn. It was off to find Darius and blow off some steam. If anyone could talk her down from murdering the asshole that thought it was a good idea to swing a frying pan at Nora’s head Darius was the one to do it.


End file.
